


A Warm Soul

by Grimalkenkid



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Pre-Relationship, Self Confidence Issues, Zarya is kind of a tsundere, Zaryatta - Freeform, but just to Zenyatta, the poor boy has a crush on someone who could crush him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 22:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8076100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimalkenkid/pseuds/Grimalkenkid
Summary: Of course the only person who sees her breaking down is the one person she didn't want to see her like this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much trouble writing Zarya in-character. @.@
> 
> (Cross-posted from tumblr.)

            “There! All better,” Mercy sighed as she finished examining Zarya’s leg. “All damaged tissue has been repaired. However, I wouldn’t recommend any vigorous activity for the next day or two. The bone still needs a bit of time to re-strengthen, but a bit of walking will help.”

            Zarya hopped off the examination table, careful not to put too much weight on her previously injured leg. She didn’t want to undo the doctor’s work. “Спасибо. I suppose training is out of the question,” the Russian woman laughed.

            Mercy looked like she was about to answer her seriously for a moment before smiling and nodding. “Exactly. I wouldn’t want to see you in here again so soon.”

            “With enough effort, that will not be until my next physical.” Zarya gave another hearty laugh, knowing full well that she wouldn’t be able to avoid injury completely, and the sad smile spreading on the doctor’s face said that she knew it as well. “Do not worry. I will be careful.”

            She left the examination room with one last wave to Mercy. Zarya had nothing of importance to do, but she knew the same wasn’t true for the doctor. Wandering outside, she pondered what to do for the rest of the day. After that morning’s disaster of a mission, most of the team had gone their separate ways, recovering and relaxing in their own ways. Had she not been injured in the firefight with Talon, Zarya would’ve been doing the same, hitting the gym or taking a run around the watchpoint to clear her head.

            And she really needed to clear her head.

            Athena had caught wind of a plan to disrupt a peaceful protest on King’s Row. Supposedly, it was just a small team of Talon operatives going in to sow some chaos among the protesters, but the moment they arrived, it was clear the operation was larger than anticipated.

            There were too many enemies, and she couldn’t shield everyone. Not when the entire fight was being watched by that sniper – Widowmaker. If Reinhardt hadn’t been there…

            Zarya shook her head and sat down heavily on the steps overlooking the ocean. The entire fight had been a mess, and she couldn’t, for the life of her, put her all into it. Not when she knew that most of the people they were defending were just omnics. The Russian woman would gladly sacrifice herself for the people, but the filthy robots were another issue entirely. She shouldn’t have to risk the life she had for their pathetic, treacherous existence.

            But some people thought that it was a worthy goal. Winston, Tracer, Lúcio… even Reinhardt, who had lived through the first omnic crisis, threw themselves into danger for the sake of omnics. Zarya could still see the red dot line up on the back of the time-blinker’s head, heralding a sniper’s bullet, but her barrier hadn’t been ready…

            Laying her face in her hands, she groaned. She thought that maybe – just maybe – the fresh air would help like a brisk jog usually did, but her thoughts kept sinking further and further towards those small mistakes she made. The ones that could’ve cost her friends’ lives. The ones that-

            “Zarya? Are you injured?”

            A gentle – no, monotone – voice broke her from her self-deprecating descent, and she looked up to see one of the watchpoint’s few omnic members standing in front of her. For a moment, the Russian woman wondered how he could’ve snuck up on her, but it was a well-known fact that Zenyatta could float when he wanted to. That he was standing on the ground was odd but not impossible, though she wondered why he would choose to stand after floating up. With her confusion pushed aside for the moment, Zarya just huffed and looked down her nose at him. He was probably the last person – machine! – she wanted to see at that moment.

            “I’m fine, omnic. Bother someone else.” The tears that had threatened to fall retreated in the face of such a bothersome thing. Why did the monk have to insist on talking to her when she wanted nothing to do with him?

            Zenyatta inclined his head slightly before turning to sit beside her on the steps. Her nerves tightened as she realized he wasn’t going to leave her be. She no longer jumped at the mere sight of him or that Bastion unit they picked up a while back, but it didn’t mean she enjoyed their company. A part of her tried to ignore that he was even there. After all, there was very little he could do to hurt her.

            She focused her attention on the sea, the waves as they reared up to crash harmlessly against the cliffs below. It must have been a welcome noise to most people, but it was just reminding her of the bombs going off around the British square, a few getting too close, pain in her leg…

            If she expected to be shaken out of her reverie, it certainly wasn’t by a gentle touch… delicate, robotic fingers sliding into her hand. Like a human might try… like a _friend_ might do…

            Zarya jerked her hand away as soon as she felt the metal touch her palm. It was bad enough that the omnic decided to sit beside her; did he have to touch her, as well? “What do you think you’re doing, omnic?” she snarled, curling her hand into a fist as if that would erase the fact that he had touched her.

            Zenyatta didn’t withdraw his hand, leaving it hanging palm up between them as he responded simply, “You are in distress.”

            When he didn’t add anything, the Russian woman huffed and suppressed an urge to look away. She wouldn’t let her guard down around this omnic, not after he tried something so forward. “If I am in distress,” Zarya said, enunciating every syllable, “it is only because you are here.” The fact that the omnic monk didn’t move was making her anxious. She couldn’t tell what he was about to do, and no soothing words would change that.

            She was just about to reach out and grab him just to force him to react when he finally inclined his head. “Perhaps, but you must forgive me if I seem doubtful. You have never before been so agitated in my presence. Annoyed, yes, but not fearful.”

            Zarya sprang to her feet at the omnic’s words, the pain lancing through her leg drowned out by the surge of anger she felt. “I am _not_ afraid of you!” she growled, fists clenched at her sides and ready to strike him down as soon as he pushed the topic. “I have destroyed countless omnics with my own two hands… I could crush you, too!”

            At that point, she would’ve welcomed a challenge, some hint of aggression that would justify popping that tiny head off his shoulders and throwing the rest in the garbage heap. Something. Anything! Anything but what he did next.

            Zenyatta looked up at her, and though his face betrayed no sign of emotion, the way he folded his hands in his lap seemed far calmer than she liked.

            “Would that help?”

            “Bu- чо?” Zarya slipped right back into her native Russian. Of all the things the omnic monk could’ve said, that was probably the last she expected. The anger faded as quickly as it had appeared, and for a moment, she wondered if he had placed one of his harmony orbs on her. The feeling was certainly similar, but there was no way he could’ve done so. Had that question really taken the air out of her sails that quickly? “W-what?”

            “Would crushing me help?” Zenyatta reiterated, holding her confused gaze. “If doing so would erase the fear that holds you, then I would not resist. But I am not what you fear, correct?” Zarya just nodded, and the omnic monk patted the spot where she had been sitting just moments ago. She reluctantly plopped back down, and her eyes flicked back to Zenyatta as he held his hand out to her again. “You are the strongest person I have ever met, but it is the things that weigh the least that can be the hardest to carry.”

            Zarya narrowed her eyes at the omnic. Sometimes, it seemed like he could read minds with how on-point his aphorisms were, like he knew exactly what was troubling her. She supposed he just had a lot of practice. Or maybe he just had an encyclopedia of body language programmed into his memory. The latter seemed more likely, but she was far too tired to argue even with herself.

            He was right, though. Her mistakes were pressing down on her even more than the weights she practically threw around on a good day. Things she could’ve done better… _should’ve_ done better… Zarya didn’t want to show weakness to the omnic, but with every passing second, it felt like more of a challenge to keep silent.

            And it wasn’t like he didn’t already know that something was troubling her.

            The soft whir of gears readjusting brought her attention back to the hand still hanging between them. The Russian woman stared at the metallic appendage, raising her own to hover above his. She stayed there for a few long moments, debating whether it would be better to just punch Zenyatta in the face and storm off or to humor his attempt to be human. Zarya knew which one she’d typically prefer, but… this wasn’t a typical situation.

            With a sigh, she took his hand and let them rest on the ground between them. She squeezed a bit out of habit – she’d always had a strong handshake – but if she had the energy to feel surprised, then the way he gave a light squeeze in return would’ve made her feel so. That his grip was so much weaker than she expected of a robot added little to that confusion. Nothing made much sense right then.

            “I… am not strong,” Zarya exhaled after a long minute of silence, her breath shaky from trying – and failing – to keep her emotions from showing. “I can’t protect everyone… not… at once…”

            She hated it. She hated how her voice was so close to cracking, how much she just wanted to scream and let everything out… How warm Zenyatta’s hand actually was. How he clasped her hand in both of his when she unconsciously squeezed just a bit harder. How he didn’t say anything, like he was waiting for her to finish.

            Zarya let her face fall into her free hand as her eyes finally started to water. It was like a dam: she had let a few drops out but now the flood wanted to burst through. She was going to break within arm’s reach of a filthy omnic, and she knew it. The Russian woman tried to curl up as best she could without letting go of his hand, a few choked sobs escaping her lips.

            “I… should not… be here…”

            Zenyatta said nothing, but she could hear him shifting beside her before feeling him let go with one hand and rest it lightly around her shoulders. She could easily shake him off with the faintest of shrugs, and somehow that made her feel better. There was no way she would mistake him for a human… yet the warmth seeping through the metallic limbs from his motors was somewhat… nice. Zarya continued to sob quietly, and with each heave of her shoulders, he would rub small circles on her bare skin.

            It couldn’t have been very long, but it felt like ages before her tears slowed to a halt. Only then did the omnic monk speak up again, still in that soft, comforting tone he always seemed to speak to her in. “You may not see it…” He paused for a moment, like he was choosing which words to use. “… but you help in ways no one else can. It would take more hours than are in a day to list them all. But you need not be strong every second you are here. We are here for you, just as you are here for us.”

            He held her a bit closer in that moment, and Zarya… Zarya leaned into it. Just a bit. “… Thank you…” she breathed, not even sure if he could hear her. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to, but she wanted to say it at the very least.

            “I believe they will be serving dinner in the cafeteria soon.” The non sequitur felt jarring for some reason, and the Russian woman tried to think of what she would’ve liked to hear more. Nothing was coming to mind – at least, nothing she was willing to entertain at the moment – but she didn’t dwell on it long as he continued. “Would you like to move there so you can get something to eat?”

            Zarya shook her head slightly. “Not… yet. I don’t want anyone else… to see me right now.”

            “As you wish.”

**Author's Note:**

> My word of the day was “aphorism.” Why are the synonyms for “a saying of wisdom” all so rarely used? At least in my experience.
> 
> As always, comments and critiques are greatly appreciated.


End file.
